


Up in the Air

by madeitsimple



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeitsimple/pseuds/madeitsimple
Summary: After Tony gets seriously hurt during a mission, Peter refuses to talk to him. It would make Tony angry, if it wasn't breaking his heart.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 261





	Up in the Air

Up in the air, there are no real safety nets. 

Tony has outfitted the suit with enough tech to try to mitigate any potential disaster, but nothing is ever fail safe, no mission is ever totally risk-free. Danger is part of the superhero gig. After all, it wouldn’t be heroic if it wasn’t risky. 

Still, they plan. They strategize. They try to minimize risk. They arm themselves to the teeth. They have backup. Their backup has backup. There’s a plan A, a plan B, C and D. 

And still, even after all that, there’s the chance that things will go south. The problem is that when things go south, they go south very, very badly.

+++

He’s been lying in the dirt for a few minutes, possibly less, when Steve’s panicked, pinched face appears above him. 

“I’m fine,” Tony says. It comes out as a gurgle and the awful, metallic tang of blood fills his mouth. 

“Don’t talk.” Steve drops down next to him, his face streaked with sweat and dirt from running through the trees. He presses a hand to his ear piece, even though Tony has told him a million times that doesn’t help, and barks out their location. “Evac incoming, Tony. You're gonna be fine.” 

Steve’s a terrible fucking liar, with a terrible fucking poker face. The clench of his jaw is all Tony needs to know it’s bad. 

“Not good, huh?” he slurs. He tries to lift his head as Steve cautiously removes a hunk of Tony’s chest plate, taking stock of the damage. 

“A little not good, yeah.” 

There’s warm wetness pooling around his back, the tackiness of blood gluing his t-shirt to his skin. Considering he’d taken heavy fire and crash landed from a few thousand feet, he’s surprised to be alive at all. 

“Auxiliary power kicked in,” he mumbles but Steve ignores him, fingers fumbling for a way to stop the bleeding. 

“I said, shut up Tony.” 

“That’s what saved me from a total free-fall. Came down at a quarter of the speed.” 

Steve grunts an acknowledgement, and checks his pulse the old fashioned way, fingers pressed to his neck. The sonic boom had fried his entire suit, cutting off access to FRIDAY. 

“Pulse is sluggish.” He keeps his fingers on Tony’s neck but cranes his head up towards the sky as he hears the whir of air support. They’re surrounded by a thicket of tall pine trees, and Tony already knows there’s no good place to land. They’ll have to carry him to a clearing. 

“You’re going to have to move me,” Tony says. Steve nods again, his face grim, and pushes a hand through Tony’s hair. 

The weight isn’t the problem. Steve could carry him one-handed if he needed to, but one wrong jostle and his organs spill out. As it is, he’s losing a lot of blood. “I’m going to get you out of here, Tony. No matter what.” 

Tony has never doubted Steve’s resolve, and he doesn’t now. 

He stares up at the bright blue and green canopy above him, his focus going in and out. He barely picks up the rustle of leaves before someone comes crashing through the trees. Out of habit, Tony raises his hand to fire with his blaster, before realizing all his weapons are offline. 

It’s fine though, because it’s a face he’s happy to see. 

“Peter, stay back.” Steve tries to keep him away, but Peter shakes him off and cradles Tony’s head in his lap. 

“Good work today, Pete” Tony says. It comes out more like a gasp, Tony’s chest heaving with the effort of each breath. He notes, gratefully, that the kid looks OK. No major damage sustained. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, like he knows what Tony’s thinking. “We’re gonna get you out of here.” 

There’s an unmistakable waiver in Peter’s voice and Tony feels an urge to pat his hand, tell him everything’s going to be fine but the words get stuck in his throat. 

“Cap, he’s losing a lot of blood.” 

His vision is starting to blur, his hearing going in and out, but he does hear Steve call his name sharply. He tries to respond, but it comes out as a weak moan. Overhead, the roar of what he can only hope is the Quinjet gets louder, drowns out some of Steve’s more dramatic cursing. He’s in incredible physical pain, but he feels an odd sense of calm that Peter and Steve are here with him. 

It’s not so terrible, he thinks. If he has to go, at least he’s going surrounded by people he loves. 

+++

It takes them 3 full days to wake him up. To hear Steve tell the story, it’s 72 hours of touch and go, where every breath could have been his last. 

“I think you’re being a bit dramatic,” Tony rasps. He’s under heavy sedation and, aside from the ice cubes Steve runs over his mouth every so often, still not allowed any fluids. 

“I’m not,” Steve says. He looks haggard, a few days worth of scratchy beard over his face and deep, dark bruising under his eyes. “You bled out all over the damn jet. You were in a coma.” 

“Medically induced coma, from what Bruce tells me. That’s different. It’s just so my body could heal faster.” 

“That’s still three days of being unconscious.” 

There are a few ticks that Steve has--tiny little tells that it took Tony years to figure out--and one is the slight flaring of his nostrils when he’s really upset. He does it now and Tony takes pity on him. He waggles his fingers and Steve takes the hint, curling their hands together. 

“That went south badly,” Steve whispers. He presses a kiss against Tony’s knuckles. 

“You’re telling me.” Tony smiles. He’s been in Steve’s spot before, has done more than his fair share of hospital vigils over the past few years. It’s always harder to be the person waiting by the bed than to be the person in bed. The slump of Steve’s shoulders, the slight tremor in his voice telegraph that he’s spent a few days sleepless and scared. “You should get some sleep,” he says, even though he knows Steve won’t listen.

“I will,” Steve replies, but doesn’t move. 

They hold hands for a little while, a dumb, funny thing Tony admittedly is finding a lot of comfort in. He never thought of himself as the hand holding type, not until recently. 

“Seriously, have you been camped out here the entire time?” 

Steve shakes his head. “Bruce kicked us all out after the first seven hours. Said you were stable, and being monitored excessively. No overnight stays.” 

“Good,” Tony says. He brushes his thumb over Steve’s knuckles, which are still red and swollen. “It’s creepy to have you watch me while I sleep.” 

It gets a half smile from Steve. “I wasn’t the problem.” He pauses for a second, and Tony tugs at his hand to urge him on. “I think Peter had a hard time.” 

Tony sighs, remembering that the kid is too young and too soft-hearted for his own good. “Shit,” he mutters. “Where is he? Can I see him?” 

Steve shakes his head, squeezing Tony’s hand in apology. “He left this morning. Once they woke you up and Bruce said your vitals were strong.”

“Oh.” 

“I asked him to stay but,” Steve trails off. “He’s worried about you, Tony. I just think it’s easier for him not to be here right now.” 

“Right, of course,” Tony tries to smile through it, but he knows Steve can see the disappointment in his face. 

“He wouldn’t leave the compound while you were sedated, Tony, even though May tried to drag him to school.”

He nods, and squeezes Steve hand again, tries to make his smile look a little less sad. Logically, he gets it. It’s hard seeing people you love dangle between life and death, he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Still, it doesn’t ease the sudden, new ache in his chest. 

+++

He gets better by degrees, spending more time asleep then awake over the course of a week. Steve’s presence is constant, if not always front and center. Most of the time, there’s someone else in the room when he wakes up--either Happy or Pepper or Rhody or Natasha--but it’s never Peter. He tries to ignore it, let the kid have his space but his spirts sink every time the parade of faces through his room doesn’t include the one attached to a mess of brown curls. 

“Give him some time,” Steve says, depositing him gently onto his own bed. 

Tony sighs and stretches out, enjoying the elation of having escaped death and an interminable hospital stay to finally end up back in his own room. 

“I’m the one who almost died,” he says. “I think that deserves at least a text message.” 

“Well, he’s keeping tabs on your vitals,” Steve says. The bed shifts slightly as Steve settles down next to him and pushes a hand through his hair, petting him lightly. “Bruce said he hacked into your medical chart a few times already.” 

Tony snorts. “Well, the kid’s smart, I’ll give him that much.” 

There’s a long silence as Steve curls around him. It’s only early evening, not much past 6, but Tony’s already inches away from sleep, the long walk from the medical wing to his living quarters exhausting him. 

“You scared the shit out of him, Tony,” Steve says, his voice as soft as if he were reading a bedtime story. “You went into defib on the plane. We got you back quickly, but...Peter shouldn’t have to see that.” 

“Have you talked to him?” Tony murmurs, easing back against the heavy weight of Steve’s chest. 

“A little. He’s a tough kid, Tony, he can take a lot.” 

There’s a “but” coming, so Tony waits, concentrates on the idle way Steve’s fingers brush along his stomach. “But I don’t think he was prepared for this.” 

Tony sighs and twines their fingers together, careful not to squeeze Steve’s bandaged hand too tightly. 

“I know this is part of the super hero gig, but it shouldn’t be. Not for Peter.” Steve curls closer, pushing his nose into the curve of Tony’s neck. “You mean a lot to him. It would wreck him, if he lost you.” 

“That’s not going to happen,” Tony says. 

“He’s seen enough people die, Tony. He can’t lose you too.” 

Tony turns his head, places a gentle kiss on the side of Steve’s face. “He won’t,” he whispers. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me.” 

+++

As he gets stronger, he takes longer and longer walks around the compound, drifting from the common room to the lab to the training area. Steve has a way of shadowing him most of the time, popping into whatever room Tony happens to be in. Rather than be annoyed, he lets it slide, appreciates the delicate nature of what he just survived and the fact that Steve’s steady hand always seems to be there when he needs it. 

He tries to talk to Peter, but calls go unanswered, texts left on read. It’s some comfort that Peter’s still hanging around the compound, making the long trek from Queens pretty much daily, but worry licks at his insides none the less. He’s not Peter’s father, not even an uncle, but the kid means more to him than the world. The distance between them sits like lead in his stomach. 

After almost a week of radio silence, Tony finally breaks. 

“FRIDAY, I need a location on Peter Parker,” he says. Privacy be damned. 

“Peter’s in the training room, finishing up a session with Sam,” FRIDAY tells him. 

Like a creeper, he stations himself outside the locker room door. Peter practically slams into him as he exits. 

“Hey kid,” he says, trying for casual and failing. “Want to grab dinner?” 

About a dozen different emotions fly across Peter’s face, but he clamps his mouth shut tight, just clutches the strap of his backpack a little bit tighter. 

“We’ll have the chef make whatever you want. Your choice.” 

Peter’s eyes drop to the floor, and for a change, he seems at a loss for words.

“Missed you in the hospital,” Tony says quietly. “Thought maybe you’d want to see if I made it out alive.” 

“You seemed OK enough,” Peter says, his eyes still grazing the floor. “Plus, there were a lot of people around.” 

He’s done something wrong, Tony knows that much, but he can’t suss it out if Peter won’t even look him in the eye. “Can we talk?” Tony asks, placing a gentle on Peter’s shoulder. “Just for a second?” 

There’s a brief moment of hesitation but Peter shakes him off. “I’m glad you’re OK Mr. Stark, I really am.” When he looks up, his eyes are big, round pools of grief that make Tony’s heart ache. 

“Peter,” Tony tries to grab his hand, but Peter shakes him off again, walking away quickly down the hall. 

+++

It takes another three days before Peter’s back in the compound again. Three days of Tony’s calls going to voice mail and FRIDAY reminding him it’s illegal to stalk a minor. It would make him angry, if it wasn’t breaking his heart. 

“It won’t help if you harass him,” Steve says, tugging on one of his older uniforms. He straps on his cowl and Tony notices white medical tape still wrapped around his knuckles. “Give him some space.” 

Tony’s never been good with space. Not with Pepper, not with Steve, certainly not with Peter. If he were interested in letting Peter come to him, he’d be back in his room or somewhere in his lab, not where he is now, leaning over the observation deck, watching as the team gets ready to run through a battle simulation. 

There’s never live ammo, but Steve also never takes it easy on them, adding enough danger into the mix that no one takes these simulations lightly. Still, even with the high bar Steve sets, Peter fights on another level, flinging himself from one skirmish to the next, webbing up bad guys and punching down drones, all without a break. It would be impressive, if it weren’t also so damn reckless. He swings through laser fire, crashes through walls and almost gets crushed by a Hydra Leviathan. More than once, Tony’s tempted to hit the fail safe sequence and stop the entire thing in its tracks. He doesn’t though, he just grips the railing, heart in his throat, as Steve screams at Peter to scale back his attack. 

Peter doesn’t though, just keeps going and going until all the threats have been neutralized. Instead of the usual cheering and back slapping that accompanies the end of a successful sim, there’s a tense silence across the simulation floor. Steve snaps off his cowl and tosses his shield onto the ground, leveling Peter with his gaze. Tony holds his breath and waits for the shouting match, but there’s no reprimand. Steve just shakes his head and walks off the floor, the rest of the team following slowly in his wake. 

When Peter finally looks up, only Tony is still staring at him from the balcony.

+++ 

There are a lot of places to disappear to in the compound, but it doesn’t take Tony very long to find him. Peter’s not hiding in a lab, or sulking in his room, he’s slouched on the sofa in Tony’s living room, waiting to be found. 

For once, he doesn’t run when Tony walks in, just scrubs his hand through his shower damp hair, and stares at his feet. 

“What was that?” Tony asks, his voice is sharper than he intended. 

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Peter says, still not meeting his eyes. “I had it handled. I’m fine, aren’t I?” 

“Are you?” Tony asks. “This is not like you, Pete. We all work as a team.You don’t take matters into your own hands, even during a sim. You know that.” 

Peter scoffs at that, jumps up from the sofa and paces to the other side of the room. 

“You gotta talk to me, Pete,” Tony pleads. “That Leviathan almost flattened you. You were inches away from getting crushed. That’s not an acceptable risk.”

“An acceptable risk?” He whirls around, eyes flashing. From experience, Tony knows that look. It’s the look of a teenager who is about to say something they’re going to regret. “What do you care about acceptable risks? You put yourself in risky situations all the time. You don’t care about your own safety at all.” 

The words are sharper than anything Peter’s ever said to him, and Tony practically rears back in surprise.

“That last mission, you flew out there solo even though Cap told you to wait for air support! He was screaming at yout to wait and you didn’t listen,” Peter says. 

“That is not the same thing,” Tony says. “Things happen in battle that you can’t always control, Peter.”

“It is the same thing. The goal of every mission is to come back safely, right? Look what happened. It’s only dumb luck that you’re not dead.” 

“Is that what this is about?” Tony asks quietly, the pieces sliding into place. “Are you mad at me for getting hurt? There were lives on the line, Peter. I did what I thought had to be done.” 

“Cap told you on the radio not to go out there alone! That we didn’t know what kind of weaponry they had. You went out there and got shot up. You almost died.” 

“Pete…” Tony starts but Peter cuts him off. 

“I’m not mad that you got hurt,” he says, voice shaking. “I’m mad you didn’t follow orders. You don’t care if you get hurt.” 

Four armor piercing bullets had shredded Tony’s insides, perforating a liver, tearing his spleen apart, and grazing one of his kidneys. The fall out of the sky had shattered a few ribs, bruised his back and caused several hematomas. Peter had been there to see all of it. 

“Of course I care,” Tony says quietly but Peter’s too angry to listen.  
“Steve had to carry you out to the clearing, did you know that? When we got you to the jet, his hands, his suit...everything was just covered.” 

“Peter…” Tony reaches out to him, but Peter rears back, shaking his head, tears pooling in his eyes. 

“We had to burn them,” he says. “My suit and Steve’s. There was just too much blood. They weren’t going to get clean.” 

“Oh god, Pete, I’m so sorry,” Tony says, daring to take a few steps closer. “I never wanted you to see any of that.” 

Tears slide down Peter’s face. “You can’t do that again,” he says. “You can’t.” 

Tony swallows past the sudden lump in his throat, a pit of regret deep in his stomach. He hates what he has to say next, but does it anyway. 

“Peter,” he whispers. This time, Peter lets him take him by the shoulders. “You know I can’t promise it’s not going to happen again.” Peter’s face crumbles and Tony’s own voice starts to shake. “I can’t. I want to. Believe me, I want to so badly but I can’t. You know the stakes, you know this is part of the gig.” 

Peter shakes his head, tears spilling out of his eyes. He doesn’t resist when Tony hugs him, pulling him in close. 

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony says, holding him tightly. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to see that.” 

“I know,” he says, voice muffled against the side of Tony’s chest. He digs his fingers into the fabric of Tony’s shirt, trembling just a little. Tony curls his fingers through Peter’s hair, holding him back just as tightly. 

“I’m fine now,” Tony says, rubbing Peter’s back and letting him break down just a little. “I’m alright,” he whispers into the boys hair. “I’m always going to be alright.” 

“You have to be more careful,” Peter says quietly, into his chest. “I know it’s part of being an Avenger, but you can’t do that us. To me or to Steve.” 

“OK,” Tony agrees, blinking back his own tears. 

This is what Pepper had tried to get him to understand and he had failed her over and over again. He squeezes the back of Peter’s neck, makes himself promise that he won’t make that same mistake again. “OK,” he says again and squeezes Peter, quick and firm, before releasing him. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit you,” Peter says, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie “I wanted to but…”

“It’s alright,” Tony cuts him off, and clears his own throat. He’s not interested in making Peter feel any worse than he already does. He keeps an arm around Peter’s shoulder and settles them onto the couch, body sagging into the cushions. He’s been standing for too long, but he waves away Peter’s worried look. 

They should go get dinner or he should call a car to take Peter back to Queens, but neither of them are much in the mood to move. They talk quietly for a long time, about the mission and the simulation and how the hell Peter managed to hack into Tony’s medical file. They talk until Peter starts to list onto his side, so Tony drops a sofa pillow onto his lap and let’s Peter rest his head. He flips on the TV and leaves it on whatever movie happens to be playing, idly stroking Peter’s hair until his breathing becomes deep and heavy. 

That’s how Steve finds them, resting on the couch as the sun hovers on the horizon, bathing the room in a warm, yellow glow. This is usually Tony’s least favorite time of day, the few moments when day turns into evening always filling him with a deep, unsettling sadness. Tonight though, the golden light drifting through the room catches against the wide array of blond and brown in Steve’s hair, makes his blue eyes a a deep, dark pool. 

He squeezes in on Tony’s other side, and rests a hand on his knee. 

“He’s alright?” Steve asks. Peter’s out like a light, his mouth slack against Tony’s leg. 

“He’ll be alright.” Tony nods as Steve settles more comfortably against him. He likes being trapped like this, bracketed on both ends by people he loves. “He was angry. And scared. Terrified, I think.” 

A sad smile crosses Steve’s face and he stares at the sleeping boy in Tony’s lap. “He’s a kid. He’ll be OK.” 

Tony looks at the side of Steve’s face, takes in the creases along his forehead, the crows feet that are just starting to appear at the corner of his eyes, and thinks of what first brought them together. “It’s hard,” he says. “Watching someone you love fight for their life. Especially after you’ve already lost so much.” 

Steve nods again, meets Tony’s gaze. “He’s a strong kid, Tony. He’ll be fine.” 

Tony takes his free hand, and wraps it around Steve’s. It’s been almost two weeks and the knuckles of both his hands are still red and split. 

“I wasn’t talking about Peter,” he says quietly. “I was talking about you.” 

In the dusk, Steve’s jaw jumps just a little.

“I’m fine,” he tries but Tony shakes his head. 

“You’re doing it again,” he says. 

Because of the serum, Steve’s body heals rapidly, any breaks or cuts or bruises disappearing almost overnight. His hands are still raw not from saving Tony, but because he goes down to the gym at night, and works the punching bag till they tear back open. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, though he doesn’t really know what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for not following Steve’s orders or maybe that two people have the misfortune of loving him this much. He presses Steve’s hand to his lips, thinks about Steve taking his uniform, soaked with Tony’s blood, down to the incinerator. How, after carrying him through the woods, Steve’s hands and skin would’ve been slick and tacky enough to make him sick. 

“It’s no one’s fault.” Steve holds his gaze, but there’s a waver in his voice. “It’s part of the gig, right?” 

“Is it?” For a long moment, neither of them speak. “Should it be?” Tony asks again and Steve shakes his head, looking again at Peter. There’s no easy answer here, nothing either of them can do but hold the reality they have in their hands. 

“Just stay in the damn jet next time,” Steve practically begs. Before he can reveal himself completely, he buries his face against the side of Tony’s neck and kisses his temple. He tightens his grip on Tony’s hand, squeezes his fingers till they hurt. 

There’ll be a next time. It’ll be a roll of the dice as to who it will be, maybe Peter, maybe Steve, maybe him again. For now, Tony pushes the thought out of his mind, and takes what he has. The three of them, safe and together. Hurting, but not alone.


End file.
